


Doggo

by Trotzkopf



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Relationship, doggo memes, nokia appreciation, smartphone woes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 03:46:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14347323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trotzkopf/pseuds/Trotzkopf
Summary: Tumblr prompt response to "Vetinari sends Vimes dogs pics on facebook, they're from groups like Doggo or Dogspotting. Vimes doesn't even"Modern AU Discworld - The Watch is Special Branch or CID in roundworld London’s Scotland Yard. Sam Vimes is Detective Chief Inspector and Detective Inspector Carrot is Canadian by adoption. Not relevant for this story but Havelock Vetinari is the director of The Firm - a private security consultancy which is a front for a covert government operation.





	Doggo

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to carry-on-my-wayward-wuffles for submitting this gem of a prompt. xx

_Bzzzz._

“Oh, it was amazing,” DI Carrot Ironfoundersson, fresh back from his trip home to Canada, explained in that cheerful tone of his. “Mom and dad bred a new variety of maples which are much more resistant to Verticillium Wilt—“

_Bzzzz._

“—And Anthracnose.”

_Bzzzz._

“…I think you’re buzzing, Mister Vimes.”

_Bzzzz. Bzzzz._

“Thank you, Carrot—”

_Bzzzz._

“—I know,” DCI Sam Vimes replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and continued to ignore his phone.

_Bzzzz._

“Looks like someone really wants to get your attention,” added Carrot with the subtlety of a sock full of bricks to the kisser. DI Carrot Ironfoundersson was the type of colleague who always checked his emails and cleared his inbox before the end of the day.

_Bzzzz. Bzzzz._

“Yes,” agreed Vimes and continued to try to write his report with the patented two fingers, one tongue method of typing.

Carrot fidgeted in his chair.

“But it might be important?”

_Bzzzz._

“Mister Vimes—“

_Bzzzz._

Sam sighed, picked up the phone, and wrestled with the thumb print lock. “The fucking—“

Carrot cleared his throat and rattled the swear jar at him. It didn’t do anything to improve Vimes’ already sour mood.

“What was wrong with my Nokia? I loved my Nokia. It was solid. It was basic. Did you know…godfuckingdamnit - yes, Carrot, I’ll put a fiver in - now leave me be until…did you know, it took me five minutes to figure out how to make a damn phone call with this thing? Ah-ha!” He shouted in triumph. He checked his messages and groaned.

_ Bzzzz. _

“I knew it.” He threw the phone on the desk in disgust.

“What is it?” Carrot looked alarmed.

Vimes glared at him before he tossed his colleague the phone.

“See for yourself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look. At. It!”

_ Bzzzz. _

“Okay. Uhm, it’s locked again.”

“For fuck’s sake! There.” He turned the phone around and handed it as exhibit A to Carrot who immediately went, “Awww.”

“Awww? There is no “awww”! It’s dogs, Carrots. Pictures of dogs in silly hats and making stupid faces with witticisms along the lines of “doggo’s a good boy”.”

“They were all sent by “The Bastard”?” Carrot looked puzzled.

_ Bzzzz.  _Bzzzz._ _

“More doggo memes?” Angua asked who happened to walk past on her way back from the kitchen.

“Uh-hn.”

“Who’s “The Bastard”?”

Angua looked at Vimes who sighed theatrically and gave her the universal hand sign for go ahead.

“Havelock Vetinari,” she informed Carrot with a smirk.

_ Bzzzz. _

“Oh, his lordship? Maybe it’s because his dog died recently and he’s missing him.“

“Or he’s bored because he’s currently stuck at home in a wheelchair and passes the time by annoying the living shit out of me. Carrot, stop rattling that jar. I already said I’ll put in a fiver,” Vimes replied through gritted teeth.

“Well, it was awfully nice of him to offer you his hospitality after your house blew up after that mess with… you know who.” Carrot said, still scrolling through the three hundred and forty-five messages which was why he missed Vimes’ expression.

Angua snorted into her coffee.

_ Bzzzz. _

“Oh yes, very charitable. Why hire a nurse when you have a flatmate, right?” Vimes’ sarcasm just slid off Carrot’s mental shields like a cat on a greased roof.

“Well, it was a bit our fault he got shot,” Carrot remarked, still scrolling.

Angua had to put the cup down or risk dropping it as she doubled over laughing quietly behind Carrot’s back.

_ Bzzzz. _

“Carrot?”

He looked up and into the bloodshot eyes of his superior officer.

He swallowed, “Yes?”

“Do shut up!”

“Yes, sir,” he handed the phone back. Vimes thrust it into the pocket of his coat which was draped over the back of his chair.

“Uhm, Mister Vimes?”

“Yes, Carrot?”

_ Bzzzz.  _Bzzzz._ _

“There was one message asking you to pick up four pints of semi-skimmed on your way home.”

Vimes’ forehead hit his desk at the same time as Angua dropped onto her knees, crying with laughter.

The End


End file.
